


on this night and in this light (i think i'm falling for you)

by bleuboxes



Category: Mamma Mia! (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Love at First Sight, Romance, almost lol, gay!harry, i just have so many feeling about them sORRY, lesbian!rosie, lots of friendship!, lots of music refs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuboxes/pseuds/bleuboxes
Summary: Bill is, well, he’s a lot of things actually. Mostly, he’s nice and he’s handsome and Donna really likes him. If her whole make-him-fall-in-love-with-me plan doesn’t pan out she’d be more than happy enough being friends with him.(She really wouldn’t, she's just saying that to be nice.)





	on this night and in this light (i think i'm falling for you)

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so right off the bat i want to say IM SORRY!!!!  
> This work is a shit show but someone (matt) told me it was good and funny so hopefully u guys will think so too. 
> 
> Regardless, i want to thank each and every person who took the time to leave such nice, lovely and positive reviews on my last donna/bill story. i straight up would not have even attempted to write this if you all hadnt been so receptive and kind towards the first one, so thank you so much for that.  
> y'all rock. 
> 
> thirdly, i hope u guys like it and i apologize for the typos i probably made. also this was only supposed to be like 1000 words. oops. also title is from the song fallingforyou by the 1975.

Not bopping to Flo Rida’s “Low” is a criminal offense in Donna’s world – both Tanya and Rosie agree with her, which is why Sam had to go.

She’s only a little mad about him being a music snob (but she’s more angry about the fact that they were dating for like a month before he decided to tell her he was engaged. To another woman. Who, as it is, was not Donna.

So that was an issue.

This said issue leads to Tanya’s indiscriminate decision to use her mothers seemingly infinite wealth to travel across the fucking world. So that’s cool.

They’re wrapping up their week in Paris by hopping from bar to bar – Donna’s made a friend along the way – Harry, and he’s joined the girls.

He’s funny, and a bit of a nerd, but he’s a good dancer and tries to hook Rosie up with all his Sapphic friends (and Rosie tries to get all her gay friends to chat him up). Donna’s the one nominated to tell him the most grievous news – that the trio of girls is heading off to some remote Grecian island the next day.

Donna is not necessarily sober when she tells him this, and he is not necessarily sober when he answers. How can she tell? He laughs, and tells her not to fret – they’ll all keep in touch. She gets his number and his Instagram between his jokes about how it isn’t nineteen-seventy anymore.

She knows she’s not sober when she laughs. Harry’s jokes seem to be funnier when she’s drunk.

Regardless, they are resolute in their pledge to have a wonderful fun night.

Tanya manages to drag some wealthy looking handsome dude to the back of the establishment. Rosie and Harry try to out drink each other, and Donna decides drunken karaoke is a must.

She’d like to apologize to ABBA for absolutely butchering “Dancing Queen” – it’s not that she has a bad voice, it’s just she’s more focused on hitting all the dance moves than the notes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The trip to Greece is just short of the ninth circle of hell. Donna does not recommend getting crazy drunk before a travel day; they almost miss the flight, Tanya’s seated next to the most obnoxious snorer in the history of snoring, and Donna’s very sure that she’s in a perpetual state of nausea for the entirety of the journey.

After they land and leave the airport, Donna expects some of their traveling to take an upturn.

It doesn’t.

It’s more headaches, missed taxis, and dropped luggage. However, the nausea goes away so instead of the ninth circle, it’s maybe the seventh.

It goes down to the eighth circle when they get to the boat dock where they’re supposed to catch the ferry to get to the island.

The customs guy takes ages and keeps criticizing their haircuts -which has zero relevance to his job – and they miss the ferry. Which is fine; they’ll just need to wait two days until the can catch the next one.

Plus her phone’s dead, so that’s more great news.

Donna mentions the bed and breakfast they walked by on the way here had vacancies, but her friends – her most lovely and cherished friends – notice a sail boat at the other end of the dock – maybe Donna (since she’s the best sweet-talker in the group) can convince the sailor to take them to the island.

Donna absolutely says yes to that plan, and she practically sprints over to the ship. Donna knows she’s going to have to rely heavily upon her words (as she looks like something the cat dragged in right now; her hair is a rat’s nest of blonde waves, her outfit consists of the things nearest to her when she woke up, and she’s very sure her eyes are red and puffy from lack of sleep).

She starts to snoop around, she’s very sure she can feel the gazes of Tanya and Rosie on her back; she’s half tempted to turn around and tell them to stop making her so nervous, but that’s when she spots him –

Cuffed jeans, cute little striped tee shirt, tan skin and sunny blonde hair that rests just above his shoulders – this, _this_ is a _man._

Granted, he looks like he listen to the Yacht Rock channel on the radio for fun, but if you ignore that he’s by far one of the best looking men Donna’s ever seen.

Donna can tell it he’s one of _those_ by first sight of him – he isn’t going to take much convincing to let three women on his boat.

There’s a strange few seconds where the two of them just plainly stare at each other.

“Oh, hello,” She says, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. He grins. Getting a ride on this boat is going to be much easier than she thought.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you interested in helping thee young women on an urgent mission?”

“Are you one of these young women?” he asks with a gleam in his eyes.

“Yep,” she smirks.

“Oh good, I thought those two women over there just hired you to chat me up.”

“I mean, they _kind of_ did. We missed the ferry and need a ride to the island over there,” she points to the boat off to the distance. The guy laughs for some reason, “We can pay for a ride, if you need monetary motivation.”

“No – I’m actually heading there to vist my aunt, so you guys are welcome to hitch a ride,” he says, “free of charge.”

“Awesome,” Donna says happily; this is the first thing to go right for her all day, “You’re the best.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that yet; you’ve only just met me,” he winks. Donna rolls her eyes, then, turns around to face her friends.

“We’re good!” Donna yells across the dock. Tanya and Rosie fetch the luggage and run like bats out of hell over to her amidst a happy reaction.

Donna thinks she’s out of Dante’s _Inferno_ for now.  

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, Donna’s out of one hell and into another because not only is he easy on the eyes, but he’s the most charming motherfuckers she’s met.

He’s not wealthy enough for Tanya’s taste, and well, Rosie doesn’t like men so, Donna decides it couldn’t hurt to flirt back.

And it doesn’t.

His name is Bill Anderson, and not to be dramatic or anything, but Donna thinks she’s already well on her way to being in love with him. He, as it turns out, is not a music snob, is a rather big fan of Swedish pop music (just like herself), and lets Rosie blast “Gasolina” after she helps him with some sort of rigging thing.

On top of all that, Bill caters to her friends and is a wonderful host. He’s a swede, and he’s a word class sailor as well – and that’s the thing that pushes Donna to the edge of her half-way-in-love-with-a-guy-she-just-met cliff.

She’s got a thirst for adventure that’s stronger than anything or anyone she’s ever known and if this Bill travels as much as he’s claiming, she might just have found the perfect traveling companion.

Now, granted she’s only just met him, she’s made it her mission to get to know him better. He’s handsome, a traveler, and he’s got a fucking boat.

There isn’t much more Donna could ask for in a guy.

 

* * *

 

 

They make it to the island.

Bill helps them unload their stuff, and they wait for him before they go up to the town. It’s late in the evening, but it’s still by far the most beautiful place Donna’s ever been to or seen. The road is dusty and dry and a bit stony, but it traces the shoreline as they walk up the mountain side.

Rosie starts humming “Despacito” to herself.

Bill joins in.

Donna follows.

Tanya’s the only party pooper who tells the three of them to shut up. She doesn’t know how to have good honest fun, so they keep humming.

“Can’t you hum something better?”

“You can’t get better than ‘Despacito’, darling,” Snarks Rosie.

“Yes,” argues Tanya, “You can.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” mutter Bill.

“Tanya, full offense, your opinion isn’t valid.”

“Fuck you guys.”

 

* * *

 

 

The girls get a room over the local tavern. Bill informs them that the owner is his aunt, Sophia. She’s a wonderful old woman who doesn’t seem like she puts up with anyone’s shit. There’s a band playing  - Donna thinks that their rather good (despite adamant protests from the rest of her friends).

They drink and they’re merry, and Donna can’t seem to get Bill’s smiling face and melodic laugh out of her mind.

It doesn’t help that he’s literally joining them for drinks or that he’s sitting right across from her with a dreamy look on his face.

 

* * *

 

 

Bill is, well, he’s a lot of things actually. Mostly, he’s nice and he’s handsome, and Donna really likes him. If her whole make-him-fall-in-love-with-me plan doesn’t pan out she’d be more than happy enough being friends with him.

(She really wouldn’t; she's just saying that to be nice).

Donna’s able to spend plenty of time with her three friends, with Bill, and with all four of them. Tanya and Rosie are insufferable about it – but in a friendly teasing manner. They keep asking for the wedding date, about how much room is on his boat – it gets to a point where it’s so fucking terrible that Donna calls Harry from Paris about it, but he joins right in with Rosie and Tanya’s antics.

It’s only the third day out of seven.

It’s going to be a long week.

 

* * *

 

 

“Look, I’m not saying that even I think he’s handsome,” argues Rosie, “but _even I_ think he’s handsome.”

“Like you’re the leading authority on hot men,” says Tanya.

“I can appreciate the male aesthetic without wanting to smash it.”

“Don’t make me bring up Brian.”

“I was _four-fucking-teen.”_

“Still,” Tanya says mid shrug, “ _Brian_.”

“I don’t see how this is helping me,” sighs Donna, leaning back onto the bed the three of them have been sharing.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were supposed to be helping.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t need help, would I?”

“You’ve been mentioning Bill in every other sentence since you’ve met him,” says Rosie. Tanya nods in agreement.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, but like this is different because he’s, like, asked me to spend the day with him tomorrow, and I’d really like to but I also don’t want to leave u guys here without me.”

“Donna,” says Rosie, “I would never forgive you if you didn’t go with him.”

“Big mood.” Says Tanya.

“But we only have like two days left here and –“

“Did you not here Tanya say ‘big mood’ – when does she ever say shit like that, Donna?”

“Guys, I don’t know –“

“Answer the goddamn question!”

“I’m not answering the question.”

“Since I know you know what the answer is, I’m not going to press you about it,” begins Rosie in a diplomatic manner, “ _However_ , there is an agreement between Tanya and I – that you are one hundred percent spending tomorrow with that handsome hunk of a man.”

“Are you guys sure? You’re not gonna be mad?”

“Just name your kid after us, okay?”

“Oh, shut up.” Donna laughs.

(Donna texts Bill and lets him know she’d be thrilled to spend the day with him.)

 

* * *

 

 

Donna is woken up early by her two friends – Tanya puts on music that is supposed to pump Donna up for her day, but Celine Dion doesn’t really have that effect on her this early in the morning, so Rosie – good sweet lovely Rosie – steals Tanya’s phone and puts on some ABBA.

“Voulez-Vous” and “My Heart Will Go On” have very different energies.

Regardless, by the time it’s time for her to go and meet Bill, she’s looking her Sunday’s best – granted the denim bralette and embroidered shorts she’s rocking are not really church appropriate, but that matters not.

  

* * *

 

 

She meets Bill at the dock where his boat is parked.

He’s ever the gentleman when he greets her – kissing her hand like he’s some sort of white knight.

It’s fucking ridiculous, that’s what it is – Donna can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re the worst.”

He tries his best to look wounded. Donna quickly informs him that he should never go into acting while he helps her in the boat.

 

* * *

 

 

The more time she spends with Bill, the more she thinks that they’re more alike than she thought; he’s a bit like her in the way that he finds sufficient grace in everything he sees or does. It’s like her high school English teacher said – she’s a hedonist in the best way; she finds pleasure and happiness in all that she can. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and well, that’s what Donna tries to do.

As it turns out, that’s what Bill does as well.

Bill takes her to a little cove where he anchors the boat and they go swimming. The water is a delightful shade of blue and Donna can’t help but think that the color of the water contrasts the dark earthy brown of the rocks on the island.

It’s also eerily similar to the color of Bill’s eyes, but she’s not going to bring that up in conversation anytime soon.

They swim around a bit, fool around in the water, and try to catch some oysters.

They manage to grab one, and Donna can’t believe their luck when Bill opens it to find a round, shiny pearl inside it.

She doesn’t fight the blush that lingers on her cheeks when he gives it to her.

 

* * *

 

 

He makes her dinner amidst laughter and friendly conversation. He jokes often of love at first sight, and Donna jokes and laughs right along with him, but the more time she spends in his company, the more she starts to believe in that romantic nonsense –

It may not be love, but there’s obviously something here between them.

But that’s dumb.

Actually, not liking Disco is dumb, what she’s feeling is not that; it’s intuitive, its groundbreaking, and it makes her feel like maybe all these love songs and old romance books and poems were on to something.

Regardless, Bill is not as good a cook as he is a sailor, and dinner is nearly passable. However, it’s better than she could have done so she doesn’t complain.

Bill tells her of his childhood, of his love for the ocean, and his wildly romantic notion of traveling – all of which Donna listens to intently. They talk favorite books, favorite places, favorite songs and shows and paintings – they talk and talk and talk until Donna isn’t sure what time it is, just that she’s tired.

He’s been joking about the bed situation all night – how his is the only one cleared off, but that isn’t the case. He’s cleared the smaller bed off quite nicely for her – even left her a nice woolen sweater to wear instead of the soggy denim she’s currently sporting.

She helps him tidy up the kitchen area, and when they’re done with that, she bids him a good night with a kiss on the cheek.

Sue her, she’s feeling courageous.

Donna changes and gets herself snuggled into bed before he walks through to his bedroom. She falls asleep despite the uncomfortable mattress and the gentle swaying of the boat.

 

* * *

 

She does not stay asleep for long though – she maybe gets an hour of rest before she’s awoken by an ache in her back. The mattress is just like Bill said it would be – rock hard and useless. She rolls around trying to find a comfortable sleeping position with no avail.

She knows Bill offered for her to share his bed, but that was said with a flirtatious undertone, and, well, Donna usually doesn’t go for that sort of thing.

However, with Bill, she might. She’s not sure how much self-restraint she’s got, and this mattress is _really_ testing her.

But she’s tired and has zero intentions on sleeping on a bed of rocks. She sighs, and heads down to the door that’s separating where she’s sleeping from where Bill is and knocks – only to find that he’s still awake reading a book.

“Hi,” she mutters, “um, thanks for today.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s only now that she looks at him – _really_ looks at him – he’s lying in the bed with the blanket only up to his waist, topless, sprawled out under the sheets like some sort of goddamn model.

He looks like a straight-up snack.

Donna gulps.

There is no possible way she’s getting into that bed and just strictly sleeping.

No. Goddamn. Way.

“Did you need anything?”

“No. No. I just wanted to say thank you,” she says awkwardly, “I’ll just be going to bed. Again.” She walks away. Then walks back to the door way, “Good night.”

“G’night,” he calls. She’s already back in her own bed.

She tries to sleep again, but she can’t. Not only does it feel like this bed has a personal vendetta against her, but now her mind won’t stop racing about that stupid fucking image of Bill.

Bill and his stupid fine pecs and arms and abs and face and smile and hair and –

She’s gotten up to go over to where he’s sleeping again.

This time, she doesn’t say anything – not trusting her mouth – instead, she stands in the doorway until her looks up from his book. A smirk lays upon his face.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” she utters, “No. I’ve just got ‘What’s New Pussycat” on replay in my head. I’m fine.”

He has the _audacity_ to laugh.

She frowns, and he laughs harder. God – it’s to her misfortune that his laugh is such a beautiful sound.

“Ha-ha. Laugh it up, asshole,” Donna says as she turns around to go back to her bed even though she really doesn’t want to go back there.

It’s not two minutes later and she’s back in the doorway, this time – she’s assured herself that she’s getting into his bed –

To sleep. To sleep of course.

“I can’t sleep on that mattress,” she blurts with the eloquence of a seal. 

“I figured as much,” he says. Bill moves his body so that it’s only taking up half the bed, “You can sleep here, if you’d like.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She climbs next to him, then lies upon her side so that her back is to him. He’s still up reading and every few minutes or so she can hear the rustling of a page turning. The mattress actually feels like a mattress, so that’s good.

It’s just that Bill is here, lying next to her reading like this isn’t the most sexually charged moment in her entire life (and there have been more than a few of those). Donna is desperately wishing that it was “What’s New Pussycat” stuck in her head instead of these thoughts of Bill.

She’s busy trying to tune out the sound of his breathing when she hears the sharp sound of a book closing. He places it down on a table next to the bed, then shuts the lights out. She feels the mattress shift under his weight, and he curls up so that his back gently graces hers.

This is the worst form of torture - goddamn ninth circle type shit.

Which is why it is a good thing it only lasts ten minutes. Donna’s being ridiculous and decides to confront her problem head on.

“Bill,” she whispers, then rotates her body so that she’s lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, “This is weird.”

He moves so that he’s now lying on his back – mirroring her position, “Is it?” he asks with a bit of cheek. That absolute _bastard_.

“ _Yeah_. It _is,_ ” Donna sighs.

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Good weird. Definitely good weird.”

They both turn to fact each other at the same time. Bill’s got on a happy smile and Donna’s very sure she’s going to kiss him.

And she does.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s rather good at kissing.

Bill is good at _loads_ of other things too – but she’s not getting into that right now (he’s also got fucking ass tats, so that’s a thing).

Needless to say, Donna did not sleep well last night, but Bill lets her sleep in, and even makes her breakfast. She wakes up to the smell of something yummy cooking, a million texts from Tanya, Rosie, and Harry, and a line of bruises on her chest.

And she’s happy. She’s really quite fond of Bill – especially after what occurred last night – and she can tell that he seems to be rather fond of her.

It’s obviously not love yet, seeing as they only just met, like, a week ago,  but it seems like they’re both well on their way to being in that lovely state.

If only they had more time – she’s going back home tomorrow, and then he’ll be out on the seas sailing and traveling and becoming only a distant contact in her phone or a fond memory in the foremost corner of her mind, or a page in her stupid diary or a joke with her friends –

She doesn’t want that.

She wants to travel with him, to get to know him more, to grow up with him and to hopefully fall in love with him.

Donna isn’t used to this whole whirlwind romance type thing – but _hell_ if she doesn’t want it.

She gets out of bed, digs around the floor for her clothes, then makes her way to the kitchen area. Bill’s being adorable again – with his stupidly cute apron and his boxers. Donna smiles fondly as he offers her a cup of coffee. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him she isn’t a coffee person, so she takes it. He’s making pancakes.- there’s a small stack of maybe three already on the table., which is set the wrong way.

It’s still endearing.

He’s trying, which is more than she can say for some of the guys she’s slept with.

It’s only a few more minutes and about four pancakes later that he sits down across from her.

“Breakfast is served,” he says in a mock French accent.

“Hopefully it’s better than dinner.”

“I resent that implication.”

  

* * *

 

 

They eat in relative silence – it’s just, Donna’s brain is going a mile a minute; she has a chance to travel, to see things and she refuses to let this chance slip through her fingers –

“Bill,” she blurts, “How would you feel about having a passenger on your boat?”

He finishes chewing his pancake before saying, “Depends on who it is. Why do you ask?”

“Well, for instance, if a woman who looked somewhat like me, who you happened to be rather particularly fond of asked to sail away with you – would you be partial to that?”

“Is she relatively fond of me too?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he says, trying to make one of those deep thinking faces while taking a sip of his coffee, “Yeah. Yeah – Donna, you’re more than welcome aboard my boat.”

Donna bursts into the brightest smile – and leans across the table to kiss him – he seems almost taken aback by her brash behavior, and soon dissolves into a fit of giggles, which prompts Donna into a laughing spell.

They kiss again. Then again. And a few more times before eventually finding their way back into Bill’s bed.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re both cloaked in sunlight and happiness and pondering the future possibilities when Bill poses an important question:

“How do you feel about Flo Rida’s ‘Low’?”

“Uhhhh, it’s a goddamn banger, that’s what it is.”

“Good answer,” he says – he almost sounds like he’s a contestant on family feud – but that thought quickly leaves her head as he kisses her neck.

Maybe this isn’t the Inferno after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> vAliDatE mE!!!!!


End file.
